


Falling

by Fireflykat



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Bottom Shawn Spencer, Dissociation, Gang Rape, Lots of shawn whump, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Prostitution, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Shawn Spencer Whump, Worried Carlton Lassiter, sex as soporific, shawn remembers everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireflykat/pseuds/Fireflykat
Summary: Shawn has an incredible memory, which can often be a curse. especially when it comes to remembering some of his less memorable times on the road. Lassie tries to help when he noticesrewrite of chapter 3added a paragraph to chapter 1 - check it!
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW - Rape, Prostitution, Lost time, flashbacks of bad memories

The man under him was large and eager, Shawn stripped and placed himself carefully above the younger man, feeling the precum from his large cock’s head against his rim. The thoughts swirled in his head as he tried to focus on the rock hard dick under him. With as much force as he could muster he quickly spit himself on the large erection. He could feel himself being torn apart from within, the familiar pain pushing everything else out of his head. “Fuck me hard” he told the man under him. He was thrown to the bed and reamed relentlessly. “Again!” He said to the man after he felt him cum, the condom was replaced and hands stretched his legs as the dick moved quickly within him. “Hurt me - not the face.” Teeth bit into his skin, drawing blood, fists punched him, he was thrown to his stomach and his legs split open, the hands pressing his hips to the dirty motel mattress, pulling his knees up and back as he did so. The large hands grabbed him by the thighs, picking him up off the bed and fucked him hard and fast. Condom after condom was used and discarded. Shawn continued to beg for more, more pain, more punishment, hurt him more, fist him, fuck him, choke him, kill him. Anything to make the swirling thoughts and memories end. 

* * *

Waking to a familiar tune blaring from his phone, Shawn lay naked and alone in the dingy motel room. Still exhausted from the three nights without sleep, he grumbled and rolled over to his stomach, hitting the phone’s snooze button and wincing as pain shot up his back. He tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use, his brain had been roused and it began shouting at him incessantly. He sighed as he dragged himself off of the dirty mattress and into the shower. Normally, a shower would be the perfect time for him to relax, but for some reason, today it wasn’t working. Maybe it was because the red in the drain confirmed the suspicions he felt as he walked into the bathroom. Something had dried crusty along his inner thighs, and he knew the man last night used a condom. Exhaustion overwhelmed him and he rested against the tile of the shower, all while letting the hot water stream over him, burning his skin as it made contact. He concentrated on the pain the water inflicted upon his skin, trying to block out the unkind memories from Florida. And Oklahoma. And Arkansas. And the last few cases. He really hated his memory sometimes. 

Ten minutes later and he was back on his bike and heading back to his apartment to change before going to the precinct. As he rode he made himself bring his mask to the forefront of his mind, and push unnecessary memories to the side. He changed quickly when he arrived back at the dry cleaners he was inhabiting, and gingerly reseated himself on his bike to head to the station. It was getting late in the morning, and he wanted to know if there were any cases to work. He needed the income, or else he would have to start his side job back up again. Which wasn’t ideal. 

He stood outside the precinct for a few moments and stood hunched over one of the railings in front of the bushes by the entrance, trying to gather himself. He breathed deeply a few times, then grabbed the beam and pushed himself up so his feet were not on the ground. After forcing himself to bounce in place, and spread his lips wide into a smile, he let go of the beam he had grabbed, and faced forward, metally digging up the mask he had convinced people was him. He bounded up the stairs and pulled open the door with his usual exuberance. 

“Hi Lassie, Hi Jules!” He said, striding over to Juliet’s desk and sitting on a corner. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Juliet blushed, “Not too much, actually,” She said sweetly. 

“Spencer!” Lassiter roared from his desk, “Stop bothering O’Hara!” 

Shawn sidled over to Lassiter and wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck from behind, “You just wanted me to come over and bother you, didn’t you?” He said quietly into Lassiter’s ear. 

Lassiter bristled and shoved Shawn off of him. “Of course not! I want you to stop interrupting our work!” His ears had gone pink from Shawn’s touch. 

Shawn pouted in an overly dramatic way and said, “But I just want to help!”

“No, you want to be hired, and paid.” 

“That too, but I help when I get paid!” 

“Barely,”

“I always lead you to the bad guy don’t I?”

“Hmmph…” 

“See, I help!” 

“You would help more if you stayed behind after to do the paperwork for the cases you help with.”

“You really don’t want that Lassie,”

“Better than me doing it,”

“No, Seriously, you don’t want me to do it… Those forms and I don’t get along. We are like if you were on a really nice ocean liner, then suddenly, someone set the ocean liner on fire, so then there are all these people fighting for life rafts, and you get into the life raft only to find out that there are no supplies, or there were supplies, but they were thrown overboard because you may have accidentally poked a hole in the boat and so you are taking on water. And when you go to fix it it just makes the hole bigger, and you think you are gonna die until you see land ahead, but it's a deserted island. But there is still no food, but now you can cook because hey, land right? But oh shit, it's raining. And you haven’t built a shelter yet -” 

“Spencer…” Lassiter cut through the babbling when he finally realised it was going absolutely nowhere. 

“Lassie?” Shawn replied with a grin. 

“Shut up.” 

Shawn huffed dramatically and left to go find someone else to bother. He left Lassiter filling out paperwork at his desk and went to go find a quiet corner. He had a headache coming on, and his back still ached. Keeping on his ‘Shawn Spencer’ mask was going to be challenging today. He went down the ramp towards the interrogation rooms and went around the corner to a quiet bench he knew to be there. He sat down and lay his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Unwanted memories flooded across his mind, barraging him with images. 

Jeans with blood staining the seat, laying in the corner of a room. A gun in his face. Kneeling in a dirty ally while someone above him unbuttoned their pants, the inside of a garage where he saw two men arguing, one of them shot in front of him. A truck coming towards him about to run him off the road, Abigail tied to the pier, a baseball bat hitting him in the stomach, farm land running for miles and three boys standing in front of him with various weapons ranging from blunt to sharp, unable to move as a drug was injected into his system, ”-er, Spencer!” a voice pulled him from his thoughts and he flinched away from the loud voice and threw the hand off of him. 

“Stop!” He shouted as he jerked back to reality and noticed the small group of people surrounding him. Karen Vick, Lassiter, Juliet, Buzz, and others crowded around, watching him. Even Lassiter wore a concerned look on his face, a thought which nearly made Shawn laugh. 

“Ok, everyone!” The Chief said, clapping her hands. “Back to work!” She shooed all the onlookers away until it was just Her, Juliet and Lassiter. “Mr. Spencer?” She asked kindly. He dreaded the next question he knew was coming. “Are you alright?” She asked. 

He forced a cheerful smile onto his face and stood up. “Of course, Chief!” He said brightly, “Any cases for Psych to look at?” He asked. 

She eyed him suspiciously. “Not right now. I suggest you go home and get some rest. You look exhausted.” She noted. 

“I’m fine, Chief,” He said firmly. “But I guess if you don’t have anything, I will go see what Gus is doing and bother him!” He pushed his way through the three of them and walked out the door. 

He didn’t look back to see the three detectives exchanging a look. Instead, Shawn drove back to his apartment and watched TV until the evening, then he changed and grabbed his long overcoat and threw it on, heading to the bus stop. He took the bus to an unsavory part of town and walked as though he knew exactly where he was going. Eventually he hit a dark street where many scantily clad women with heavy makeup hung around and greeted them. 

“Hi Shawn,” said one woman with sleek black hair down to her waist, a top that showed her midriff and a skirt that barely covered her ass. “I thought you got out.” She remarked. 

“Hey Tina, Not enough cases this month.” He said with a small shrug, taking off his coat and putting it in a corner. “Got to eat somehow.” Under his coat was revealed to be a skin tight shirt that went barely past his chest, short leather booty shorts that didn’t finish covering his rounded rear, large fishnet stockings, and black leather knee high boots and black fingerless gloves that went to his elbows. He had put thick black eyeliner around his eyes and made his face pale with powder. His hair stood on end with mousse. Everything was too tight, black, studded and revealing. 

Soon a car pulled up and pointed to him, he got in and it drove off. “Fifty for oral, one fifty for anal, and a hundred extra for any sadism play.” Shawn said monotonously. The car parked and Shawn nearly choked as his mouth was pushed roughly down onto a hard member. After a few minutes, he was given the asked for $50 and pushed out of the car. 

It was on his way back to the street that he ran into trouble. Or rather, ran into Dobson. He didn’t think that after everything, Dobson would be the first person to figure everything out. But there he was. He rolled down the window. “Shawn Spencer gives it up for money, huh?” He said with a cruel smile. Shawn looked at him in disgust. 

“What do you want, Dobson?” He asked

“I want to fuck you.” Dobson said with a sneer, he held out money. “I have wanted to put you in your place for a while. Trivialising police work with your psychic episodes, making a show of things, always having to be the center of attention. I want you to kneel at my feet while I fuck that smart mouth and shut you up. Show you that you are nothing more than the dirt under my feet. I will pay” Shawn narrowed his eyes. 

“No.” He said. 

“No?” Dobson repeated. “You can’t refuse me. What would you do if someone at the station found out about your side job.” Shawn looked away. 

“Fine.” Dobson grinned and parked on the side of the road, grabbed Shawn by the neck and threw him into a puddle in a dark and dingy ally. A hard kick met the consultant’s ribcage before the Psychic could get up, Dobson grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, unbuttoning his jeans and prying Shawn’s mouth open, cramming something thick and pulsing down his throat. Shawn choked and sputtered, trying to get away, but Dobson held his head fast and kicked the man kneeling in front of him into submission and using his hips to fuck Shawn’s open mouth. Shawn nearly choked as hot cum flowed down his throat. He was pulled to his feet and thrown face first against the brick wall. One of Dobson’s hands kept a firm hand on Shawn’s back, keeping his front pressed against the rough brick, the other pulled open a large knife and cut into the tight leather shorts.

“Stop!” Shawn gasped, as he felt the knife slicing his skin. 

“Shut up, whore,” Dobson leered, “You will take all I give you and like it.” He slammed the fist holding the knife into Shawn’s exposed side, relishing when the blade nicked the skin. “Moan, Fag, let me hear how much you enjoy me fucking you.” He lined himself up with the hole in front of him, pulled the hips away from the wall, and slammed himself hard into the tight passage with a grunt. “Oh, Spencer, I could get addicted to this. You are so tight. It’s better than a woman.” Without waiting for Shawn to adjust, Dobson pulled out and thrust in, starting slow and hard, then speeding up, the hand on Shawn’s chest moving to crush his head against the wall. The knife still held, blade side up, in Dobson’s hand at the leather clad hips, dug into his abdomen with every thrust. Soon he spurt a large amount of thick fluid within the consultant, grabbed him by the neck, and shoved him back to the ground, and kicking the bloody and dirty man away from him. “You’re ass is made for fucking, Spencer.” Dobson said. “It’s better than a pussy. Damn, that was great.” He laughed as Shawn turned to him with hatred in his eyes. “Imagine what Lassiter would say if he could see you now. Or O’Hara.” He smirked and threw some money at the man on the ground. “Later, Psychic.” He said the title with mirth as he got back in the car and drove away. 

Shawn ground his teeth as he picked up the money that was thrown at him. A one, another one, a five, a twenty, a ten, another ten, another one. Fuck. He thought miserably. He should have been getting at least two hundred for that little escapade. Normally he would charge three because he charged more for sadism, and he would never permit knife play. Not for his customers anyway. Forty eight bucks was not his going rate. He pocketed it anyway, once he pulled up his shorts and headed back towards the girls. He knew it wasn’t uncommon for prostitutes to be raped, and he had been more than once, but each time it made him sick. His stomach had started to feel queasy as soon as he hit the floor, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Ducking into another ally, Shawn heaved, spilling the contents of his stomach on the ground, while leaning on the brick for support. Considering there wasn’t much in his stomach to begin with, he continued for longer than he anticipated. Finally he had nothing left but a new pain in his gut 

“Oh my god!” Tina gasped as Shawn came into view. “What happened?” Shawn looked down at himself. His hands and knees were skinned, his shirt was wet, his hair mussed, and there was something on the side of his face that felt suspiciously like blood. 

“Bastard customer,” He said with a small smile, “Don’t worry Tina, I’ve had worse.” She frowned at him. 

“You should go home,” She said, throwing his coat at him. “You are in no condition to keep streetwalking looking like that.” He grimaced at the comment, but agreed. He took the coat and called a cab to take him home. 

Shawn entered his apartment, not registering the open door and headed straight for the bathroom, not thinking about anything but needing to be rid of the filth that covered his body. He shed his clothing and started a shower, once more settling on a temperature that was close to searing, trying to burn off the memories of that night, the unwanted hands all over him, the cold metal of the knife digging into his skin, the cum running down his throat - He grabbed his bottle of mouthwash and took a large swig, rinsing his mouth vigorously before spitting it out. He took another swig and held it in his mouth for a long time, eventually swallowing it, letting the burn of the fluoride override the feeling of the bodily fluid he was forced to ingest. All he wanted to do was forget. That night was going to be no good for that, he supposed. Shawn stood staring at his naked form in the mirror, his eyes lingering over the bruises and cuts that were becoming more prominent as each minute passed. Anger and shame welled within him as he stared. How was he supposed to go into the station tomorrow? Was Dobson done with him? What would he do if someone found out about his side job? What would he do if Gus found out? Or Lassie? 

He stared straight into his own eyes, and suddenly couldn’t bear to see his own face anymore. “FUCKING WHORE!” He shouted at himself, as he punched the mirror and it broke in half, the bottom half shattering to the floor. “YOU FUCKING LIKED IT!” He punched it again, shattering the top half this time. “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS LIKE IT?” The shame was overwhelming him, if he didn’t break something it was him that would shatter. “Goddamnit!” He pulled his fist back to punch whatever he could when a large calloused hand caught his wrist and held it fast. He felt a warm body behind him hugging him. 

“Shhh,” it soothed. “You’re ok,” The last thing he remembered that night was being guided down into a comforting lap, and a feeling of numbness which overtook his entire body.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lassie comes to the rescue

It all started a few weeks ago, Lassiter was at Tom Blair’s pub when he saw someone being overtly felt up. He didn’t take any notice of it, until he realised that the person on the receiving end seemed to be someone he knew, Shawn Spencer. In addition, the one on the giving side was a much larger male. This intrigued him as much as it bothered him. It pleased Lassiter to know that Shawn went for men, but he didn’t enjoy seeing him with someone else’s hands down his pants, and enjoying it?? Whatever, it was no concern of his. The two left soon after only for Shawn to return alone adjusting his jeans as he took his seat. Lassiter didn’t like to think of the implications there, especially coupled with the red face he was sporting. 

Lassiter continued to keep an eye out for Shawn from out of the corner of his eye, and saw him leave out of the front door much later in the evening with another man. Lassiter filed this information in the back of his mind for later as he returned alone to his own apartment. 

During his repeated trips to Tom Blair’s Pub over the next few weeks, he had seen Shawn half of the time he was there, and he always left with a different guy. Sometimes he made a side trip to the bathroom with someone else before finding someone to go home with, but he always went home with someone, and that someone was always a male that was larger than him. This behavior seemed to be unusual for the psychic, but to be honest, Lassiter couldn’t be sure of that, since he didn’t really know much about the man’s personal life. For all he knew, this could be completely ordinary behavior for Shawn Spencer, but some nagging suspicion in the back of his head told him that it wasn’t. That there was something recently that made him act this way, and Lassiter was going to find out what it was. 

So, when Shawn bounced into the precinct with his usual exuberance the morning after Lassiter saw him leave with one of these men, and end up in a shivering mess on a bench in a hidden niche, Lassiter decided it was time to confront the younger man about his recent actions. He also was simply worried about him. He wanted to go over after work and just see if the smaller man was all right. 

What he found was an empty apartment and a key in an obvious location. He entered to find a tidier apartment than he expected, and looked around for the younger man. Looking at his watch he wondered what Shawn could be doing at 11:30 in the evening, and he sat down on the couch to wait. He had started to doze when he heard the door open and quick footsteps. He opened his eyes to see a long coat being shed and the bathroom door close. He heard water running, and he hung back on the bed for a while. Eventually the water turned off, but there were no signs of Shawn leaving the bathroom. Instead he heard Shawn yelling in a voice that sounded choked with sobs and a shattering of glass. Lassiter shot up and ran to the door, reaching it as he heard another shattering of glass, poisonous insults were flying around the small bathroom, one after another. Lassiter opened the door to see Shawn, naked and bent over the sink, hands supporting him, his right fist bloody with pieces of glass embedded in the cuts, and breathing hard. He had looked up to the now bare wall in front of him and raised his bloody fist again, preparing to punch something when Carlton caught his wrist. 

He pressed his body against Shawn’s and could feel the heat radiating off of the raw pink skin. “Shhh,” He said into Shawn’s ear, “You’re Ok,” Shawn seemed to relax into the touch and the words, letting Lassiter take control. He held the younger man in his arms and carefully sat them down on the bathroom floor, grabbing a towel for Shawn as he went. Lassiter looked into Shawn’s face and saw something he hoped he would never see again. Shawn looked as shattered as he rendered the mirror all over the floor. His eyes were vacant and unseeing, tears streamed down his face and he made no movements of his own free will. 

“Oh, Shawn,” Lassiter sighed, pressing the young man’s head to his shoulder, “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, you are too good a person to have to suffer. I will help you any way I can.” 

He set Shawn down on the floor as he got up and searched for a first aid kit, which he found easily enough. Gathering the psychic and kit up in his arms he carried both to the bedroom and started fixing up Shawn’s hand. Once done, he pulled the covers back and helped Shawn lie back, saying “Come on, Shawn, bed, yeah?” gathering up the bloodied gauze that needed to be thrown out, Carlton got up and pulled the blankets over Shawn’s prone form. He was leaving the bedside when he felt a tug on his shirt. “What do you need, Shawn?” Lassiter asked gently. 

“Lassie, stay?” Shawn asked faintly, almost as if he was speaking from a distance. 

“Sure, if you want. I will sleep in the living room.”

But the hand didn’t let up. “Lassie, stay?” 

“Do you want me to stay here with you?” the hand released its grip. “Ok, I will stay here, I just need to throw these away, ok?”

A few minutes later, after removing his dress pants and shirt, Lassiter got into the other side of the bed, watching for a reaction from Shawn. He reached out and placed a hand on the other man’s arm. Shawn flinched at the touch but relaxed after a moment. His eyes still stared straight ahead at the ceiling. 

“Come here,” Lassiter invited, then sensing the other man’s need for his comforting touch and inability to seek it out, he pulled Shawn closer to him, letting Shawn’s head rest on his arm. As soon as their bodies met in the gentle touch Shawn’s eyes began to close, and soon he was fast asleep, receiving the best night's sleep he had in weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn refuses Lassies help
> 
> And Mean people are mean 
> 
> Lots of Shawn whump, beware

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; Gang rape, multiple object insertion, physical assault, nightmares, self harm
> 
> Read the tags, tags are everything

Eyes were watching him, hands were all over him, pain pierced him, words stung, then there were more hands. Hands all over his body. He was naked and eyes leered, hands wandered over and inside. Then instead of hands touching it changed, it was feet and knives, they kicked and bit at him. A noose wrapped around his neck and he felt baseball bats make contact with his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. Southern accents echoed in his mind as they jeered homophobic slurs. Eyes everywhere saw straight through him, anyone’s hands could pull him apart, everyone’s feet were kicking him in line, dicks all over where fucking him straight. 

Large hands held his wrists to the mattress, someone was babbling words incoherently while another voice spoke over them. “Spencer! SHAWN!” the babbling stopped as he opened his eyes and saw Lassiter on top of him. He flinched away, pulling himself out of the detective’s grasp, noticing only then his own naked form. His stomach was starting to feel nauseous again, and he looked around for a towel, purposely looking anywhere but at Lassiter in front of him. Suddenly a towel was held out before him and he flicked his eyes up quickly into blue ones that were uncharacteristically concerned, and staring intensely into his face. He grabbed the towel and darted to the bathroom, wrapping it around his waist as he went. He flipped the toilet cover up and sank to his knees just in time for bile to land where it was supposed to. Shawn heaved a few times, regurgitating very little. He rested his back against the tile wall of the bathroom, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he waited for his stomach to settle. 

“Shawn?” Lassiter’s voice came from the doorway. Shawn opened his eyes to see Carlton leaning against the door frame, that worried look still on his face. “Are you ok? What happened last night?” 

Shawn answered with a forced smirk. “Don’t worry Lassie, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” 

The frown on Lassiter’s face deepened as he walked over, grabbed some pajama pants and boxers and set them down near Shawn. “You don’t have to deal with these things on your own anymore, you know.” Lassiter hesitated, then he kneeled down and looked Shawn square in the eye. “Whatever it is, you have friends who can help, Guster, O’Hara, the Chief, McNab, even myself, we are all here for you.” 

Shawn forced himself up off the ground, grabbing the articles of clothing Lassiter had brought him and putting them on. Then he stood and faced Lassiter. “I can handle my own problems Lassiter.” He said shortly. 

Lassiter covered his shock from being addressed by his actual name by giving a snort. “Yeah, it looked like you were handling it real well last night.” He said, standing and gesturing to the bandaged hand. 

Shawn looked at his hand, then at the absence of a mirror. Lassiter had cleaned up the shards of mirror the previous night. “Shawn, I have answered enough 911 calls to know a sexual assault victim when I see one.” Shawn glared at him. 

“Nothing happened.” He spat. “I have never been assaulted. Sexually or otherwise. Don’t compare me with your victims, ok?” 

Lassiter sighed, this wasn’t going to be easy. He looked at his watch, it wasn’t even 5 am yet. “Ok, fine. Then can we go in the other room and talk about what you dreamt about? What was so bad that it made you throw up?” Lassiter looked closer at Shawn as the other eyed him warily, not knowing if he could trust the detective. Shawn looked exhausted, he also looked like someone had put him through the ringer. Or in a boxing ring. He had a bruise on his cheekbone and his lip was split, he was holding his ribs which indicated a bruise or broken rib, and there were cuts on his lower stomach under more dark bruises. “Do we need to go to the hospital? Some of those bruises look pretty bad.” 

Shawn shot him a look. “Occupational Hazard, I guess,” He sighed, then he joined Lassiter as the detective made his way into the living room of the small apartment. 

“Psych doesn’t have any cases right now, at least not with us.” Lassiter prodded. 

“And what do you think I do for funds when Psych doesn’t have any client’s Lassiter?” Shawn sneered, “Expect Gus to pick up the bill?”

“Well, yeah,” Carlton admitted, 

“Glad to know you think I’m so irresponsible.” To Lassiter’s surprise, Shawn didn’t seem annoyed, but rather pleased with Carlton’s admittance that he saw the psychic as childish. “Hate to break it to you, but I have other ways of making money. If that is all, Detective, I would ask you to be on your way.” 

“Hold on a minute,” Lassiter caught himself by surprise as he stood staunchly by the door Shawn was holding open for him. 

“What is it now,  _ Detective Lassiter?? _ ” Shawn asked with pure spite in his voice. “You said you wanted to check to see if I was ok, well, you came, you saw, I’m ok. Now leave. Before someone thinks you actually  _ care _ .” 

Lassiter froze at the malice in Shawn’s voice, recoiling at his words. He had called him by his proper name all morning. Something was definitely wrong. “I don’t believe you.” Lassiter said, crossing his arms and sitting on the sofa. “I’m going to sit here until you tell me exactly what happened.” 

Shawn glared at the detective, then disappeared into his room and came out a minute later fully dressed. “Fine, you stay, I’ll go.” He slammed the door as he left, grabbing his keys and helmet on his way out. Lassiter watched with frustration as Shawn took off on his motorcycle. That did not go as he had hoped. Then again, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting in the first place. 

Barely 20 minutes later Shawn was entering the Psych office, flicking on the lights and landing heavily on the sofa. He really didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t think he could anyway. His thoughts were racing too fast for him to be able to make sense of any of them. He just didn’t want to think anymore. His skin felt like there were ants crawling under the surface, trying to get out. He could feel his blood as it raced in his veins. 

Before he knew it he was in the bathroom, and must have withdrawn the boxcutter blade from within the secret compartment he made in the medicine cabinet because it was resting against his wrist. As it bit into his skin, digging in and drawing a long line of blood, which ran down his hand and into the sink, like a small red river, Shawn felt his thoughts quiet as he focused on the pain. As he watched the blood escaping his body, flowing down the drain, he was able to let the rest of the world fall away giving him a high that only sex had ever given him before. He had forgotten this feeling. He sliced again, deeper this time, focusing on the way the cool metal slid easily through his fragile skin. It could get addicting if he didn’t stop. He looked absently at his wrist and frowned. This was too obvious. If he wanted to continue he would have to find somewhere no one would see. He didn’t feel like thinking about that right now. He just needed to feel. Thinking hurt far too much. He added two more cuts in quick succession, journeying further up his arm. The blood flowed into the sink faster and thicker than before. Shawn couldn’t help it, he watched, fascinated by his own blood loss. What would happen if it continued? Had he cut deep enough to die from exsanguination? He didn’t think so. Not yet. Turning to look at the clock, he realised he had been standing there for far longer than he thought. He needed to clean up before Gus came in and found out. He washed and dried the blade, then tucked it back away where it belonged, hidden in its secret compartment. Then he washed his arm and went to go find the first aid kit. After carefully bandaging up his arm, he threw on a long sleeved flannel and buttoned it at the wrists. Then he lay down on the couch and tried to sleep, laying his head purposely on his injured arm, moving to make the pain spike every time an unpleasant memory came to the surface. As he lay there, he prepared himself for another day of facades and masks, false energy and excuses. He also prepared himself to face a Lassiter who suddenly cared... and Dobson. 

Gus walked into the office precisely at 7:30 and was not that surprised to see Shawn there. “Movies keep you up all night?” He asked his friend. 

“You know that's right!” Shawn answered with a grin, sitting up and meeting Gus’s gaze. “John Hughes Marathon! Plus only the best of snacks!”

“John Hughes? Damn,” Gus mourned, “I love me some of that Weird Science. Why didn’t you tell me? Or wait for me to do it this weekend?” 

“To be honest,” Shawn admitted, “I didn’t get very far, started with the girls collection, we can continue this weekend if you want!”   


“I am so in!” Gus seemed mollified by Shawn’s suggested extension of his fake marathon, he held out his fist and Shawn bumped it with his non-bandaged one. “So, breakfast before I go to work?” 

“Definitely, I’m feeling pineapple waffles,” Shawn said, as if he was thinking hard. 

“You know that’s right,” and the pair headed off for breakfast. 

Shawn was able to keep his mask intact pretty well during breakfast, although he didn’t eat nearly as much as he normally did. He let Gus pay, as always, since Gus would think something was wrong if Shawn paid for his own food, but hung back and threw down a five after Gus was out of sight. “Precinct?” Shawn asked eagerly.

“I told you Shawn, I have to work.” Gus explained patiently. “I can drop you at your bike,”

“Come on Gus, don’t be the day after Christmas.” Shawn pouted in his usual over the top manner as they drove. 

“Call me if there is a case,” Gus said, “But until then, I don’t need to be wasting my time at the precinct for no reason. Neither do you by the way.” 

“But then how will I know if there is a case or not?” Shawn asked with a smirk. “If I’m not there, Lassie might get stuck on a case and not have enough courage to ask me to help.” 

“Juliet would.” Gus replied. “Juliet always advocates on using us. You know that.”

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t get to bother Lassie.” Shawn’s smirk became more pronounced. 

“Get out,” Gus said as he stopped in front of the Psych office. “Do whatever you want. You always do.” 

“Wow,” Shawn said, opening the door, “You are being just like that guy from that one movie. Seriously. You should lighten up.” 

“Could you be any more vague?” Gus asked, eyebrow raised. “Don’t answer that. I have to be at work in twenty minutes, out, Shawn.” 

Shawn got out of the Blueberry waved at his friend. As soon as Gus was out of sight, the smile on his face and his posture instantly shifted. His face fell and his straight back fell in on itself. He raised a hand to his hair, realising he had never put any product in it that morning, and what’s more, he actually didn’t seem to care. He cringed as he moved towards the Psych office and into the bathroom to do his hair. If it wasn’t perfectly messy like usual, everyone at the precinct would know something was wrong. He had to look like he did every other day. Act like he did every other day. It was crucial that today be just another day. 

A half hour later Shawn was getting off his bike in front of the station, plastering on his fractured mask, and hoped beyond hope that no one would see through it, and hoping more than life itself that neither Lassiter or Dobson hadn’t said anything to anyone about what happened the previous night. 

Unfortunately for him, luck didn’t seem to be on his side. As soon as he stepped into the precinct, Officer Dobson came up to him and motioned for him to follow. He could feel Lassiter burning a hole in his head with the stare he was directing towards him as he followed the officer. “Spencer, I was hoping you could do a consult for me. A case came up last night, and I wanted to hear your thoughts. Gain your uh,  _ insight. _ ” Shawn felt Dobson squeeze his shoulder, hard. Shawn tried to conceal a grimace. 

“I thought you didn’t care for my methods Officer?” Shawn spat. 

“I never said your methods were bad, in fact, your methods are quite good, but I’m not that surprised, you have been a  _ psychic _ for quite some time. I never liked how you thought you were superior.” Dobson smirked. “Are you sure you won’t take a look Spencer? I need an outside eye, and if you aren’t available, maybe I will just have to ask Head Detective Lassiter if he is.”

Shawn blanched. “Fine, I will help with your  _ case _ . But not right now, wait until Lassiter and Juliet are busy.” 

“Slip away within the hour. There is an empty office down by interrogation. I will meet you there. If you aren’t there by 10, a little birdy will start singing.” Dobson turned and went about his duties. Shawn rubbed his face with his bandaged hand, trying to clear the sleep from it. How was it barely a quarter past nine and he was already this exhausted. He moved to the coffee pot and poured a liberal amount into a cup and downed it in one go, relishing the burning of his throat. He poured another cup and added his fixings this time, stirring them in and trying to enjoy the hot beverage. Then he gathered his courage and flounced over to Juliet’s desk like he did every other morning. 

“Hi Jules!” He said as he sat in a chair by the desk.”How’s my favourite detectiveress? Lady detective? Second half in my favourite detective pair?” He rambled, trying to sound as nonsensical as usual. 

“Hi Shawn,” She smiled at him. “We have a bunch of paperwork to slog through today, are you doing better today?”

Shawn shrugged, “Everyone has nightmares, I’m not special. It was nothing from the spirit realm if that’s what you want to know.” He could see the concern in her green eyes. “I’m sensing there aren’t any cases for me today either,” He got up and headed towards the door. “So I guess I will just be leaving.” He could see Juliet look back at Carlton out of the corner of his eye as he moved towards the door. 

“Spencer,” Shawn heard familiar footsteps behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. “Wait a moment.” He turned to face the taller man, looking up into the blue eyes, feeling the mask he wore slip just a bit.

“Oh, Hi Lassie,” He tried to play off his blatant ignoring of the detective earlier. “I didn’t realise you were there! Have you ever tried playing Hide and Seek? I bet you would be excellent at it.” 

Lassiter growled under his breath, his eyes searching Shawn’s face. “Come here,” He pulled Shawn into the File room, which at the moment was empty. “You aren’t fooling anyone, Shawn.” He said seriously. “Juliet knows something’s wrong, I know something’s wrong, even McNab knows you aren’t yourself. He came up to me yesterday asking what was going on with you. You may think you are fooling people with that charm and grin, but the only one you are fooling is yourself.” Shawn’s grin fell off his face and he looked into Lassiter’s eyes with a hard look. 

“I fooled you for this long, haven’t I?” He sneered. “So I slipped. A few days on my own and I will be fine. Butt out Carlton.” He headed to the door when Carlton caught him by the wrist. Whatever the detective had been about to say slipped his mind when he felt the bandages beneath his grip. 

“Shawn, what’s this?” He unbuttoned the cuff of Shawn’s sleeve and pulled it back to reveal the long bandage going halfway up his forearm. “Shawn? Answer me.” Shawn didn’t meet Carlton’s eyes, instead he pulled his arm from the other man’s grasp and quickly rebuttoned the sleeve. 

“Nothing.” He said finally. His eyes flicked to the clock. It was five to ten. He needed to escape. “It’s not important. Just let it go.” 

“No,” Carlton crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the younger man. “I won’t,"

“Just leave me  _ alone _ , Carlton,” Shawn fumed. “You prefer to have nothing to do with me, don’t you? Well, here’s your chance. Leave me alone. I will walk out of your life, you will be rid of me forever. Good bye!” He opened the door to the room before Carlton could react and walked quickly to the empty office as directed. He slipped inside after making sure no one was around.

An hour later Lassiter watched Shawn stumble up from the interrogation rooms, fuming and in complete disarray. He watched the psychic disappear into the bathroom and reappear a moment later with his clothes perfectly in place and his smile set firmly upon his lips. He was so focused on Shawn that he didn’t notice Dobson slipping back into the crowded bullpen. 

The next day, Lassiter only noticed Shawn had entered the precinct when he was coming up from the interrogation rooms, spotting a slight limp to his step. Carlton had made a point to keep an eye on the younger man, and over the next few weeks noticed a few things, that he kept disappearing within the precinct, sometimes for hours at a time, and that he stopped showing up to Tom Blair’s pub. He also noticed that each time Shawn reappeared he seemed to be forcing himself more than before to act normal. His conclusion was that something was happening to him while he was being pulled away. He just didn’t know what. And he desperately wanted to find out. 

* * *

The day after Dobson found out was relatively easy for Shawn. He met the officer where he was instructed and forced into a few sexual acts, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Then Dobson reminded him to return the same time, same place the next day, which sent shivers down his spine. He had the gall to say “or else” which just infuriated the psychic. He stormed out of the office and straight into the bathroom to fix his completion and slap a façade on his face before leaving to face the rest of the precinct. 

The next day was the same, he met Dobson who had decided to bring some toys this time. The day after, someone he knew was waiting with the blackmailer. It was one of Shawn’s old clients, an officer named Fisher. The sadist started by kicking Shawn hard in the ribs, before plowing into him with no preparation. Dobson watched from the sidelines with a smirk. As the weeks went by two turned into three, which turned into four. Each time the men would fuck and beat him until they were satisfied, and let him leave. Occasionally knives made their appearance, heat, toys, they used just about everything on him, but always kept him in one piece and made sure all visible damage was in places covered by clothing. 

Three weeks after Lassiter stayed the night he was greeted by a fifth man in the room, as he recognized him, his stomach clenched in fear, realizing that he might not get out of this one alive. 

“Lock the door.” Dobson smirked. “I’m glad you weren’t.” Shawn whipped around to see Dobson and four other officers standing in the open office, all leering at him. Three had been there the previous day and immediately moved forward to tug off his clothes, one was new. 

“Sorry guys, four is my limit. Actually, one is my limit, but you know, since you asked nicely I made an exception. Five though, is really pushing it.” A baton hit him hard in the stomach. Shawn doubled up, holding his stomach in pain

“You will do what we tell you.” Dobson replied. The baton came down on his back, flattening him to the floor. “Boys?” 

Hands pulled at his clothes, tearing it off, something was shoved in his mouth so he didn’t make a sound. As soon as his shirt was off, his hands were handcuffed together. Shawn looked daggers at Dobson, who pulled the piece of cloth out of his mouth and had his cock take its place. 

“His ass is better than a pussy,” Dobson laughed to his friends, “Try it Samuels, you will love it.”

“I aint no fag, Dobson,” The new man replied. 

“Just picture him with tits,” Dobson shrugged. “A hole is a hole.” Samuels seemed to agree at that, and something hot was placed at Shawn’s back entrance. In one swift motion, Samuels slammed himself into the hole. A fierce pain radiated from Shawn’s middle and he clenched his eyes trying to fight through it. “Ouch!” A hard punch across the face disengaged him from the man behind him and threw him against the wall. “The bitch bit me.”

“Fuck Dobson, now I have to start over.” Samuels grabbed Shawn by the neck and pulled him up on his feet, bending him over the desk in the middle of the room. He lifted one of Shawn’s legs and held it on the desk. Lining up again, he pushed his way into the bruised and puffy hole. Shawn tried not to cry out. A whine escaped him and a baton hit him around the face. “No noises, you are ruining the fantasy.” 

“My turn Samuels!” Another voice said. 

“Fuck his mouth, Fisher,” Samuels shot back. 

“I prefer his ass.” Fisher replied. He was a sadistic jerk who always left Shawn bleeding and bruised when he was done. Once when the night was over, he was left in a locked cockring and a metal tube down his penis that kept him hard until Fisher decided to remove the lock. Which wasn’t for more than a week. Another time after a session he was hit in the diaphragm so hard he passed out. When he came to, he was wearing a belt that was locked from the side that had a strap between his legs, keeping in place what felt like a very large plug. During the few days he was forced to wear it, it would randomly send violent pulses through his body, sometimes lasting up to an hour. The night Fisher finally bought him again to take it out, he turned the vibration setting to maximum and turned it on starting around dinner, and kept it on non stop until they met at 11. He was still vibrating when Fisher pulled him into an alleyway and stuck a long large rod down his urethra. 

“Hehe, I’ll take his front,” leered a third man, he had started coming in during the end of the first week. MacMillian. Someone came around to the other side of the desk. A hand was stuck in his mouth and a large cock shoved in. 

Finally something hot squirted into him and the cock slipped out. “Your turn Fisher,” Samuels said. Once they all had taken their turns both in front and back Samuels went to the back again, “oh my god, he is covered! What a whore! I bet he loves it!” He slid himself in once more and gripped the younger man’s balls, making him clench up in pain. “Fuck! That feels so good! If you hurt him he gets tighter!” He exclaimed in jubilation. 

The other four smirked “we know” Dobson replied. 

“Try this,” MacMillan held out a battery powered heated pen. “It’s for burning thread, but I’m gonna guess it will work on flesh just as easily.” He smirked as Samuels took the large pen and pushed the button, watching the tip turn red. He pressed the bright red tip to the middle of the bare back and Shawn let out a muffled scream of pain. Samuels drew the pen in a long straight line down the bare back, then made another two parallel lines perpendicular to the first, next to the first grouping he made two angled straights that met in the middle, and one connecting them, then after that a large curved line with a hook at the bottom. When he was done the word FAG was burned into Shawn’s back. 

Someone smirked in appreciation. “Perfect, now he won’t forget what he is.” 

“Although, what we really should remind him of is -“ Fisher took the pen and turned him over, writing WHORE across his chest. Shawn struggled and squirmed in pain. MacMillan laughed and pulled him to the floor, stomping on Shawn’s left calf once it was laying on the cold laminate. Another scream muffled itself as it came from Shawn’s throat. 

“I’m getting tired of hearing you scream, slut” Dobson grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. “After all the nice gifts we have given you? We have fucked you nice and pleasant like, given you these pretty tattoos, given you an excuse to stay home, we even fed you. This is how you repay us? You open your big mouth and scream? I think we need to teach him his place. Samuels?” 

“I want to see what I can do with this,” Samuels was spreading Shawn’s legs since Dobson had thrown him back down to the desk. Shawn couldn’t see what he was holding up, but then he felt a police baton hit him hard on the thighs below his ass. “How does that feel? Whore? Faggot? Do you prefer something like this?” Something cold and plastic slid into him, slid deeper, and deeper, hitting the place where he bottomed out and kept pushing. “Come on Whore, you can take it.” He pulled it out and thrust the baton back in as hard as he could, not stopping where he was meant to. He thrust in over and over, piercing him from within, it hurt so much, that if Shawn had the ability, he would be screaming. Tears poured down his face, eventually the baton was replaced with another hot cock which took him many more times, finally spilling seed into him. The man in his mouth was just as diligent, in fact, he had cum already and another had taken his place before Fisher finally finished. 

“Hey Fisher, toss me your baton, I want to try it with two,” The man who was previously at his head was now behind him slipping something cold into his abused rear. Something else joined it. Suddenly the two started thrusting within him at an alternating pace which was absolutely sickening. They pounded away deep within him, furiously beating him up from the inside out. “Add mine!” someone else said. A third baton joined the first two. Suddenly the cloth was deep in his mouth again and there were five voices laughing from behind as three, four, five batons squeezed into the small hole. 

“Damn Spencer,” the fourth man, Jones, said, he joined the party the previous week. “Just how much of a sloppy slut are you?” Shawn whined in pain as each of the batons were pushed into him as far as they could possibly go. They all laughed. 

“Hey Dobson,” Fisher said with a leer, “try this.” He pulled out from his pocket a long metal rod. 

“Where does that go?” Dobson asked curiously.

“HERE” Fisher grabbed Shawn’s erect penis and forcefully rammed the rod inside. 

“It’s way too thick for in there.” Samuels commented. 

“Don’t worry, he loves it.” Fisher smirked as the thick rod pushed its way into the slit, a pained moan ripping itself from Shawn’s throat. Fisher continued to push the rod into the narrow passage until it met resistance. 

“Hey Fisher,” Samuels said casually, “Metal conducts heat you know.” He took out a lighter and flicked it on, holding it under the penis in question. Shawn squirmed uncomfortably under the many hands holding him down. 

Fisher was still pushing, “turn the bitch over!” he said, frustrated. 

They turned Shawn onto his back, taking care to use the body weight to spread the batons out in the small hole, widening it. The flame from Samuels’ lighter sent heat down into the fleshy passage

“Just a minute!” Fisher replied. He got up onto the desk, and stomped, hard, somewhere just below Shawn’s ribs. Tears rolled down Shawn’s cheeks as he fought to stay conscious. Then he jumped down. “Now let’s flip him over and see how the back is doing.” someone grabbed an arm and jerked it, flipping his torso and then his bottom half around. 

“I think my fist could fit in there now.” Dobson said “Maybe even with some of the batons.” 

The heat pen was still out and as they took turns on his ass they took turns burning slurs into his body. Soon COCKSUCKER, WORTHLESS, SLUT, LIAR, QUEER, and FAIRY joined the first two. 

“I want to try!” Fisher added. 

“I don’t want that shit all over my hands!” Samuels said in disgust.

“You guys have evidence gloves on you, don’t you?” one of them asked. “We could just use those.”

“Good idea MacMillan.” He heard the snapping of thin rubber on hands and one last go with the batons before they were pulled out all at once. 

“He’s gaping!” Jones cried, laughing hard. 

“Oh my god!” Dobson seemed thoroughly amused. “Spencer, I can actually see into your ass.”   


“You are totally right Dobson,” Samuels said, “That is a pussy, that aint no man’s ass, No real man would ever be able to take a cock.”

Shawn felt something large force its way past his rim, “Or a fist,” Dobson added with a laugh. The fist pumped into Shawn and hit him inside. Shawn groaned, making a small amount of noise through the cloth in his mouth. He coughed as the cloth was forced deeper into his mouth by someone’s hand. It was making it hard to breathe. Shawn coughed again, violently. A second fist joined the first and they started thrusting within him at alternating rhythms. 

Jones was the first one to notice Shawn zoning out. He grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the desk. “Pay attention.” He growled. “Or we will have to do it again.” 

It was another half an hour before the five men flicked off their gloves and walked out the door laughing, MacMillian reminding him “You tell anyone about this, psychic, and you will never step foot in the station again - not as a consultant anyway.” They roared with laughter as they departed the room, leaving Shawn handcuffed, naked, and covered in come, laying across the unused desk.

He managed to get himself off the desk and put his boxers and pants on before his vision started clouding from the pain radiating throughout his body. The metal rod in his urethra poked at him in a very uncomfortable way. 

“Well, this isn’t good.” Shawn thought as he fell, he just managed to tug the material out of his throat, producing violent coughs as it was expelled before passing out.

He woke up coughing, feeling like someone’s hand was around his throat. Pain brought him fully back to his surroundings and he noticed that it had started growing dark outside. The officers must have been going at him for hours. He tried to stand but immediately lay back down as stars popped in front of his eyes and the world spun around him. He also noticed that he was still handcuffed and his leg was incredibly painful. Thankfully it was only his left leg, not the one he needed to ride his motorcycle with. Unfortunately, he needed stability to stand his motorcycle upright, which was going to be almost impossible now. He was going to need a ride home. He looked down at his torso and saw the hated words burned into his flesh. He had no idea how he was going to cover this up since he wouldn’t be able to put his shirt on. 

He sighed, he really didn’t want to have to do this, but he was going to have to ask for help. Juliet was on vacation in Florida, visiting her parents, Buzz was on paternity leave, and the Chief was at her sister- in law’s for the week. He didn’t have anyone else to ask. He pulled out his phone. Not to mention Gus happened to be at a conference for pushing drugs, and no way was he turning to his father. Henry would never let him live it down, end up blaming him for the entire debacle… it was just not something he would ever consider.

_ Shawn _ :  _ brrw xtra cuff kys plz?  _

He waited a few minutes until he got a reply. 

_ Lassie: What do you need? I can’t understand your text… _

_ Shawn: Can I borrow your extra handcuff keys, please? _

_ Lassie: Why? _

_ Shawn: Not Important. Please? _

_ Lassie: What do you need handcuff keys for? _

_ Shawn:... I may or may not be locked in handcuffs right now… _

_ Lassie: That would make my day _

_ Shawn: Please Lassie? I need to go home and feed my goldfish… _

_ Lassie: You don’t have goldfish _

_ Shawn: I meant feed from my bowl of goldfish.  _

_ Lassie: This is me, rolling my eyes. _

_ Shawn: In all seriousness, I need help, And possibly a ride home, I don’t think I will be able to ride my bike home. _

_ Lassie: Where are you, and why can’t you ride your bike? _

_ Shawn: Bring a key to handcuffs and I will show you, I am in the empty office by the interrogation rooms _

While he was waiting he looked at his lower half and saw a metal rod protruding from his fly. He winced before he carefully extracted his abused penis from his boxers and gently withdrew the thick metal rod. As it slipped out, Shawn simultaneously exhaled the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, sending him into a fit of wet coughs. 

There was a knock on the door. “Spencer?” Shawn tried to answer but he couldn’t catch his breath. “Spencer? Is that you?” 

“La...Las...sie?” Shawn managed to gasp out before dissolving in more gasping coughs. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. 

“Spencer, I’m coming in” Lassiter went to open the door but a weak hand pressed the other side.

“Don… Las…” Shawn gasped between coughs. “Don... loo… Key?” He weakly held up his wrists to the door and let it open, so all Lassiter saw when the room was revealed was the wrists in cuffs. Shawn fought to regain his breath as Lassiter unlocked the cuffs.

“Spencer?” Lassiter asked, concern crossing his face now. 

With one hand Shawn slammed the door before Lassiter could cross the threshold, with the other he grabbed for his T-shirt, slipping it on in the few seconds before Lassiter reopened the door. When Lassiter finally entered the room, Shawn was crossing to his overshirt and gathering it up, but his torso was covered. 

“What the hell, Spencer?!” Lassiter asked furiously. “Did you really just slam the door in my face?” 

Shawn turned around and put on his flannel, sitting against the desk in the center of the room as he did so, careful not to put pressure on his leg, or any of the other giant bruises he had recently gotten. “Did the door shut on you Lassie?” He asked, his voice still slightly hoarse. “That’s so weird!” 

Lassiter looked at him suspiciously, a mixture of annoyance and concern on his thin face, blue eyes boring into the hazel ones. “What’s going on Shawn?”

“Aww, you called me Shawn!” Shawn grinned. “I knew you loved me Lassie!” He held out his arms, “Gimme a big old hug you grumpy old cuddle monster.” He tried to wrap them around Lassiter but he just stepped back and out the door. Shawn nearly fell over when he stepped forward. “Well then, Lassifrass, I’m gonna head out. Thanks for the save!” He ambled slowly up the ramp and towards the doors, pretending not to be depending nearly as much as he was on the supports. By the time he was at the door, sweat was pouring down his face, and Lassiter finally grabbed one arm and wrapped it around his neck. 

“Don’t be an idiot Spencer, you aren’t riding your bike on that leg, you need the hospital.” He guided Shawn to his car as Shawn snorted, 

“Hospital? Please, this is just a flesh wound, nothing to worry about. Just take me home.” Shawn replied in his usual airy tone, meeting him with a steady look. 

“One minute” Lassiter said, and ran back inside. Five minutes later, with his jacket, briefcase and armful of cases, Lassiter slid into the driver’s seat. “And how are you planning to get around your apartment on that leg?” he asked “You live alone.” 

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Shawn said shortly, his voice turning icy. “I’m fine, and I would have been fine driving home.” He looked out the window as buildings flashed by.

Lassiter looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “If you ride like that you could get yourself killed.” 

Shawn was quiet, but Lassiter could have sworn he heard the younger man say, “fine by me,” under his breath


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mean officers - more Shawn Whump and awkwardness ensues, plus our shassie relationship heats up
> 
> I rewrote chapter 3, so if you havent reread it since I posted it yesterday (2-27), take a look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- References to past drug use, rape, and backstory (That i am still working on - it will be AU about childhood and the years traveling)

Lassiter didn’t know what was going on with Shawn, but he was going to find out. He was determined in that. He wasn’t going to let the man he loved suffer in silence… wait… loved? He threw a sidelong look at the younger man looking silently out the window, uncharacteristically still, and mused internally as they drove to his house. Did he love the kid? Was that why he was so worried? He would feel oddly angry when he saw him going off with other random guys in the pub, and recently he had been going there almost as if he were waiting for the younger man. He also couldn’t seem to forget the feeling of his naked body in his arms that night when he was asked to stay and Shawn had cuddled close. He wanted that warm smooth skin under his fingers again, under his tongue. He wanted to hear him moan in pleasure beneath him, see him orgasm because of him. Most of all, he just wanted that smile back. The carefree pain in the ass he was used to. He wanted to comfort Spencer and make everything ok again, he even had gotten a pineapple last night when he went shopping, for no apparent reason. Crap, he was in love with Shawn fucking Spencer. 

Halfway to the apartment a police cruiser pulled them over and Samuels came up to the window. “I never thought you went for cocksucking whores, Detective, I always thought you were above that, didn’t enjoy sloppy seconds.” He smirked. Shawn stared pointedly out the window, not saying anything. “I was wondering how you got so many cases, faggot,” He was addressing Shawn now. “You should leave the sex part off the table when you are working with police officers, keep that to the streets where you belong.” 

Fisher walked up to Shawn’s window, which had been rolled down and gripped him by the hair. “Oh lookee here, a fag whore thinking he is people.” He forced Shawn to look him in the eyes. “I thought we disavowed you of that notion. Do we need to teach you again? Or go to the chief?”

“Fuck you, Fisher.” Shawn bit out. 

Samuels and Fisher laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Samuels replied. “Don’t you agree, Detective?” Lassiter said nothing, but glared at Samuels. 

“What? You were taking him home to fuck him right? How much does he charge you?” 

“We aren’t paying for today,” Fisher sneered. “You’ve gotten sloppy.” 

“Are you still gaping?” Samuels asked, eagerly. 

“Should we check?” Fisher queiried. “On your knees, whore.” Samuels came around and jerked the door open, Fisher grabbed Shawn by the arm and pulled him forcefully from the car, throwing him to the gravel. Lassiter couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He left the car and stalked around to the two officers one of whom jerked Shawn up by his hips and tore down his pants and boxers, leaving his ass bare, the other stood at his shoulders. Fisher plunged an entire hand inside as Samuels crunched Shawn’s head into the gravel with his shoe.

Seeing the blank look upon Spencer’s face on this mistreatment, red filled his vision. “Get your filthy hands off him.” He growled. 

They cackled. “You are calling _us_ filthy? _He’s_ the whore. I bet he has had everyone at the station up his ass.” Samuels retorted. 

“You think this is filthy?” Fisher smirked, pulled his hand out, picked up some gravel and shoved his fist back inside the red and irritated hole. “Now he is really filthy.” he pulled his hand out again and picked up another large fistful as he sank claws into the burned thigh. Before Lassiter could dart forward and stop him, a second handful of rocks sank into Shawn, making him close his eyes and let out a small whimper. “No noises, fucking whore, how many times have we said.” Fisher snarled, he pressed his free hand upon Shawn’s broken leg. Shawn cried out in pain before his head crunched harder into the earth as Shawn bit his lip hard to keep from making any sounds. 

A moment later Lassiter had grabbed them both by the collar and tore them away from Shawn. He threw them to the ground and stalked towards them. “ _Never_ come near him _, ever, again._ ” he said in a low menacing voice, that could still be perfectly understood. 

Samuels glared at Shawn then back up at Lassiter, “Standing up for a common whore detective? Isn’t that beneath you?” 

Lassiter narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t prostitution I saw, _officer_ ,” He emphasised the man’s title. “that was abuse of power and rape. No one is above standing up for victims of abuse.” He helped Shawn up and back into the car. “Was there any reason why you pulled us over or was it just for fun?” they looked at each other, which gave Lassiter all the confirmation he needed. “Then we are going. Gentlemen.” He nodded. He got into the car, then before he drove away he added, “Don’t think that this won’t be reported.” He sped off before being able to see Samuels turning a brilliant shade of red or Fisher’s face whitening, or hearing them call after him “faggots!”

* * *

They pulled into the parking space and Lassiter parked his crown vic, gathering up his work stuff in one hand, then came around to the other side and opened the passenger side door. Shawn didn’t seem to notice they had arrived anywhere until Lassiter opened the door. He had been especially withdrawn since their encounter with the officers ten minutes previously

“This isn’t my apartment.” Shawn said flatly, speaking up for the first time. His voice sounded slightly hoarse, as though he was fighting to keep emotion from showing upon his face. He was looking everywhere but into Lassiter’s face. 

“No, this is my house. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you on your own tonight.” Lassiter confessed, as he held out his hand to help Shawn up. 

“Are you sure it’s not just because you just want to fuck me, detective?” Shawn said wryly. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a whore.” He winced as he stood, the rocks within him pressed and pinched and hurt as he moved. 

“Are you ok?” Lassiter asked gently, he helped the younger man to his feet and closed and locked the car door. Then wrapped Shawn’s arm around him and helped him up the front steps. 

Shawn groaned in pain. “Bastard with the gravel, I’ll be fine. Had worse.” he mumbled as they entered Lassiter’s home. 

“I’m guessing you want a shower?” Lassiter asked, guiding Shawn towards the nearer of the two bathrooms, Shawn nodded. “I’ll get you something to wear.” He said, leaving the younger man in the small room. 

“Do you have a plastic bag also? Like a shopping bag and a paper towel?” He called after the detective. He started carefully taking off his shoes and outer shirt, not wanting to take off his tee until he was sure Lassiter wasn’t coming back in. He removed his pants slowly, wincing as he shifted the gift that had been left within him. There was a knock on the door and it opened. Lassiter entered with a plastic bag and towel, along with lounge pants. 

He looked nervously at Shawn, who answered the question before it was asked “Stop right there detective, you are going nowhere near this hot mess right now.” he tried to grin in a cheeky fashion. He saw the blue eyes land on his legs and realised how far the writing on his body must have extended. 

“Shawn,” Shawn jumped at being addressed by his first name. “What is that?” He pointed at the upper thigh that was currently on display. Some word had been running down it from his asscheek down to the inside of his thigh. 

“This?” Shawn shrugged. “A reminder of my position in life.” He said ruefully. “Nothing important.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Lassiter asked, concerned. “Position in life? You are our psychic detective.” 

“And as you could clearly see just now, the department slut.” Shawn finished. “I’m sorry, whore.” He sighed, rubbing his neck and looking down and away. “Don’t worry Detective Lassiter, give me ten minutes and I will be gone. Out of your hair. That’s what you wanted, right? For me to leave you alone? Ten minutes. And I’m out. Thank you for the hospitality, and the towel.” He took the towel and bag, the pushed Lassiter out of the room, not taking the lounge pants offered to him. 

“Shawn?” Lassiter asked after a moment trying to comprehend what had just happened, “Shawn?!” He said again slightly panicky this time. He couldn’t hear the tap or water running. He heard Shawn yell from within the room and yelled his name again.

Shawn stood at the mirror and looked into his own dull green-brown eyes, his face looked thin and drawn, there was blood on the side of his face, his hair wasn’t styled. He rested his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the sink. Nails dug into his scalp pulling at his hair. “Fuck!” he said loudly to himself. Taking a deep breath he restlessly brushed his hands through his hair, then stood, looking at the ceiling for a few minutes. He faintly heard his name being called, but didn’t respond. He heard pounding on the door. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a straight razor, holding it to his thigh. Then he moved and remembered the gravel within him. Taking off his remaining clothes, he stepped into the shower with the small bag and started the slow and painful process of cleaning himself out. 

It did not come painlessly, or noiselessly. He grunted and gasped multiple times in pain as rocks left his body. The angle was uncomfortable, and it was difficult to see or tell if he had gotten everything out. He was going to need help, he was going to hate asking the other man for this, but it was necessary. He turned off the shower and wrapped the towel around his still wet body, unlocking the door and opening it slightly. “Lassiter?” He said hesitantly. Carlton hadn’t moved from outside the bathroom. His piercing gaze looked into Shawn’s anxious eyes. Shawn took a deep breath. “I can’t… myself… too deep…” 

Lassiter’s eyes softened. “Shawn, are you asking me for help?” Shawn nodded imperceptibly. “Yes, I will help you, but only if you agree to stay here tonight.” 

Shawn bit his lip, thinking. “What do you want from me, Lassiter?” He asked finally, opening the door fully and standing there leaning up against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest. Lassiter looked at the words written on his torso. 

“What do you mean?” Lassiter asked

“What do you want?” Shawn repeated. “Everyone wants me to do something for them, be something for them. For Gus, its someone he can feel superior to, to goof off with, a best friend, Henry, it’s a perfect detective for a son who he can blame when things go wrong, for the Chief, it’s someone who closes cases, for Jules, it’s someone who she doesn’t have to try to emulate, I am a whore, a best friend, a detective, a psychic, a failure, a fag, an idiot, a pain in the ass, a genius. What. Do. You. Want. _Who_ do you want?” 

Lassiter looked at him steadily. “I don’t want anything from you, Shawn. I would like to sit down and talk to you, after we get you cleaned up. See what happened to make you see yourself this way. I guess, I want to help you.” 

Shawn snorted. “You want to be the hero? Fix me? Is that it?” 

“You just asked for my help.” Lassiter pointed out

“I asked you to help me get rocks out of my ass, Lassiter, not save me from the big bad world of prostitution rings and rapists. I’ve been dealing with them fine on my own.” 

Lassiter’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“You think Samuels and Fisher are the first men to rape me?” Shawn asked, rolling his eyes. “Apparently I have that _look_ about me, always have. Anyway, no one makes a fuss when a male prostitute gets raped. Or drugged, or abducted and forced into a sex ring. I don’t need you to fight my battles. I’ve been dealing with this world far longer than you.”

Lassiter didn’t know what to say to that. Any of it. It unnerved him to hear Shawn talk about such dark things so easily, as though they had happened to him. He couldn’t imagine them happening to someone like Shawn Spencer. He was so cheerful all the time, happy go lucky. It didn’t make sense to him. Although, maybe it did. If he had such a dark past, maybe his way of overcoming it was to be free and easy going now. 

“Now are you going to help?” Shawn asked, “Or not?” 

“Will you stay the night?” Lassiter returned

Shawn rolled his eyes. “FIne. But I charge $100 for Anal.” He let Lassiter enter the bathroom after him

Lassiter rolled his eyes following him in, but thought privately that it was an awfully low price for a prostitute. He noticed the small bag of wet red rocks in the tub, and could have sworn the gravel was black when he had seen it earlier. 

“You may want gloves if you have any, most people don’t enjoy sticking their fingers in another man’s ass.” Shawn said dryly, as he took off the towel, turning towards the wall and spreading his legs. He bent over waiting. 

Lassiter froze when he saw the swollen bloody ring in front of him. He could see a bit inside and saw blood dripping out. Resting a soft hand on Shawn’s hip he gently brushed his thumb over the tender opening. Shawn shuddered. “Are you ok?” He asked softly “It looks like it hurts.” 

“Just dig in already,” Shawn said gruffly. “Don’t worry about being gentle, I can take it, I have taken far worse.” Carlton poked two long fingers inside and carefully felt around for the offending items. “I said stop being gentle…” Shawn’s voice hitched. 

“But I want to be,” Carlton replied. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t enjoy hurting those I care about.” Shawn went rigid, resting his head against the tile wall. 

As Carlton continued, he noticed Shawn’s increased rate of breathing, and hardening erection. “I’m almost done.” Carlton said quietly, he ran one hand down Shawn’s thigh towards his front and took the enlarged muscle within his grasp. He bent over Shawn’s hunched form and kissed the younger man’s back, picking out the final two pebbles and depositing them in the bag. Then he took the removable showerhead and turned it on, spraying the head towards the smaller man’s dirtied backside, filling the orifice with water then poking his two fingers within once more, curling them and poking around until he felt Shawn shudder and moan below him.

A hand turned off the water and Shawn spun around, wrapping his arms around Carlton’s neck for support. He leaned up and hesitantly placed a chaste kiss on the detective’s lips, who returned the action by pressing in and devouring the psychic’s lips, letting his tongue run along Shawn’s lips, begging for entrance. Shawn pulled back shyly, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Carlton looked at him in disbelief. Shawn tried to explain, “You don’t kiss when you get paid for sex. Kissing is something you save for the one you love, no one kisses a whore, especially a male whore.” He tried to sound flippant about it, but his eyes looked sad. Lassiter ran a hand down Shawn’s face, and pulled his chin up again so he was looking into his eyes. He placed a kiss on the younger man’s lips, then took the towel and helped Shawn dry off. 

“Come on,” He said, giving his guest the lounge pants he grabbed earlier. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Do you mean to bed? Or _to bed_.” Shawn asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come on Lassie, fuck me the way lovers do.” He stepped up close to Lassiter, and grabbed the hard cock in his pants. “You know you want to. No charge.” 

Lassiter extricated himself from Shawn’s grasp, “Not today,” He said firmly. “I have a feeling you have had enough of that for one day.” A barely imperceptible cloud crossed behind Shawn’s eyes. 

“There is no such thing.” He said slightly bitterly, as if remembering a command from long ago. “No such thing as too much, Lassie.” He pulled on the lounge pants and hobbled out of the bathroom, leaving a dumbfounded and slightly confused Lassiter standing there in his wake.


End file.
